Dirty LaundryLoading up the washing machine, and my mind is sprawling around in several destinations far from this cramped room. I spritz my clothes- no, actually I drench them with that spray- the kind that's supposed to work miracles on any stain before the affect fabric even goes in the washer. This was my favorite shirt. My favorite shirt. I'm just not thinking today, am I?
The cotton feels good on my fingers, even though I'm stuffing it roughly into the machine. And all the towels...I didn't learn it until I'd moved out, but Mom was right: washing towels and clothes in the same load led to an outright ungodly amount of lint stuck in everything. I pause. Do I really want to do two separate loads?
Yeah, why not? Water begins to fill up, and I'm dousing it with that lovely detergent that smells so good and pure.
I sit down opposite the machine and just stare at it for a while. It rumbles pleasantly, numbly, and my mind drifts. What a nice sound, surely one could just meditate with i
100ThemesChallenge - Two RoadsYou are well within your rights, at any moment, to stand up and say, "No, this is not who I am. I'm afraid you've mistaken me for someone I'm not."100ThemesChallenge - Two Roads3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
You can make the world more beautiful by simply refusing to lie about it.
Breathe.One. Two. Three. Four. Five.Breathe.3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Inhale. Hold your breath. Exhale.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
Inhale. Hold your breath. Exhale. Eyes focused on his chest.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Hands crossed as if you were praying.
Inhale. Hold your breath. Pinch his nose. Lock lips. Exhale.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. "Don't give up on me now!" Dizzy feeling.
Inhale. A tear falls. Hold your breath. Muffled cry. Exhale.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Shoulders in agony."Please! Breathe!"
Smiley ManThere are those stories in the papers where a person has died and their pets have eaten their faces off, and everyone's always so disgusted by the dear trusted pet eating their owner, (how can you blame the animal? It's efficient.) Sometimes the owner isn't actually dead, they've just passed out, so they wake up and have no lips, and they look like they're grinning. Like a skull.Smiley Man4 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
My childhood Smiley Man was like that, but no eyelids either. He looked like a skull, in that way, except he had eyes and there was skin on his face, just not over his teeth. And all he ever did, really, was chase. So I'd run, and I'd think I'd have got away, but he had long fingernails, so he could just scratch me, rip my clothes. Seemed perfectly natural, then.
I'd go to the closet to get my coat and stand on a box, because I wasn't tall enough, and I'd think I see him, but he was just something out of my dreams, my own, slightly sicker Bogey Man. The Smiley Man. Sounds like a clown. It's always the childish
I Am Someone To HateDo you know who I am? Do you think that my soul is calm as you say? A tame mare you can bridle. A sight for eyes that searched too long? Another pretty face, to recall at the late hours of the night?I Am Someone To Hate5 months ago in Emotional More Like This
No. I am no princess from your fairy tales. I am no damsel in your accursed, grey, towers.
No. I am nothing like it.
I am the chill down your spine, colder than the winter months. I am the monster under your bed, naught but pale bones and empty eyes. I am the ghost that haunts you, dead and hungry for more death. I am all the things you hide from. I am something to fear. Something to hate.
I am the force behind the dark that keeps you awake. The one that keeps you still as you pray to god that it passes and doesn’t see you. The next time you call me beautiful think of every shadow that has touched you in your dreams.
Run from me, boy. Forget you ever saw me. Lie down and hate the day you heard my name.
I am no calmer than the height of the storm. The raging winds have
Once Upon This WorldOnce upon this world, I was asleep. Asleep and content, blissful unawareness had overtaken me and I loved it. Once upon this world I saw what I wanted, however briefly, it was no less mine. Once upon this world, there was nothing that could make me happier than time cast into oblivion carelessly abandoned in the ether. Once upon this world, I woke up.Once Upon This World1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Tin ManYou're slick in my veins, andTin Man3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Slick on my skin
And boy, you move so smooth
For a man made out of tin
The curving of your lips
When they travel down my spine
The warm acceptance of your arms
And how our fingers intertwine
Yes, you're so slick
And so eager to please
And I'm so young
And so easy to tease
It's not hard to make me shiver
Tracing my skin beneath your thumb
Your real art is wrecking me for others;
Their soft caresses leave me numb
Oh yes, my slick tin man,
You got me where it hurt
Make me wonder endlessly
While I'm lying in the dirt
Wonder what it is in you
That keeps you seeming sweet
Wonder how, if you're so heartless,
Your chest still has a beat
The gentle words I slipped into
Were lines from a mouth that plays
And the beat I once thought I heard
Was the trick of a body that preys
So, tell me, tin man
How it feels to take a heart
Hold it beating in your hand
Make it stop and help it start
Is it familiar to you yet,
What a pleasure heartbreak is?
Or is the only thing you re
1: Introduction"Your name?"1: Introduction3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"German father, American mother."
"None. I am a single child."
The cold eyes of the gray coated man rest on my face, his pen hesitating on the paper. I shrink under that gaze, fearing it for some reason and yet . . . I still want to pass this test. This simple little test and I don't know why it's so important. In fact, now that I think about it, I don't even know where I am . . . who was this man again? He taps the pen on his tablet, sighs, and scribbles something down before continuing.
"Um . . ."
Those sharp eyes return and he lowers his pad and pen, gazing at me curiously. My heart races and I gaze down at my legs . . . bare legs . . . I come to realize I'm not wearing anything and then remember with fleeting panic that I think I answered the question wrong.
"Are you feeling drowsy, Amber?"
My brain quits working
She Was a Stormcloudshe was a stormcloud, and you loved her,She Was a Stormcloud2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and the two of you took walks and wore
nothing but promises,
broken chains and
strands of pinkish pearls.
and the two of you kissed under trees that attracted silver lightning
(metal branches scraped the sky, and you, always faithful,
tipped your coat over her head to keep her dry.)
but she never stayed that way.
in an instant, she had whirled into the rain
and danced without clothes,
and she left you
with the pain of frostbite on your naked skin
where you trusted her to kiss you warm,
and you thought you heard her laughter
when the sun came out again the next day,
and the next.
she was a stormcloud, and you loved her,
and you didn't know it at the time but
(and they never
You'll Think of MeI like to pretendYou'll Think of Me3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
That you still listen
To each word I choose
With careful precision,
Harboring them in your heart,
For a less complicated tomorrow.
SmileYou must be tired from your walk; come closerSmile3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to Granny. The forest isn't for little girls
to wander. I must have a talk with your mother.
Well, let's see what she made me. What? You made
it all? Why, you're just getting more and more talented!
Picking perfect fruit is difficult you know. Just look
at how shiny this red apple is! I can see my own face.
Take a look. Go on, don't be shy. Good girl. Look
how pretty you are. Smile. That red coat goes very nicely
with that pretty blonde hair of yours. Where did you get that
blonde hair from? Not from me. But Granny made that coat
for you, remember? Of course you do. And you baked
this cherry pie all by yourself? And look at that! You even
wove the crust together I'm very impressed. You should
be proud of yourself. Why aren't you smiling? What's wrong?
Come closer to Granny. Be a good girl and smile. Bad things
happen to pretty girls who don't smile. Let Granny hold your
hand. It's very pink, much softer than I remember. But wh
23. CatA cat goes missing23. Cat3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Because her sister has passed
And she has nothing left to hug
The Hollow CityI've got this feeling like I want to dance in falling ash. I want to revel in the rotting softness of it against my skin, in the morbid beauty of death. I want to lie down and make an angel in the remains of a once great city. I want to be alone in the ruins. I want to run through abandoned streets I own because no one else will have them. I want a broken place to hang my head and hide a smile because I know, eventually, the whole world will come to this.The Hollow City3 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
Breathe"I'm very sorry."Breathe3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"There's nothing to be done."
"She's going to die."
"Would you like to say goodbye?"
27. ForeignThe extent of my knowledge of French is as follows:27. Foreign3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"Bonjour," I say.
"Bonjour," they reply. "Comment t'allez-vous?"
"Shit," I say. "I don't know what comes next."
Likewise, my knowledge of a different foreign language:
"I love you," I say.
"I love you too," they reply.
"Shit," I say. "What comes next?"
100ThemesChallenge - AcidYou were acid through my blood.100ThemesChallenge - Acid3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
100themes38: AbandonedHe doesn't know why he did it. Maybe it was for the bragging rights. Maybe it was because he wanted to know what everyone was so afraid of. Maybe it was because he wanted to prove how brave he was. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because of a little ghost girl, and a years-ago game of tag in the woods.100themes38: Abandoned3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Whatever the reason behind it was, he's beginning to be not entirely sure that breaking into a supposedly haunted abandoned insane asylum was a very good idea.
For one thing, the place seems as if it's near to falling apart. The floor creaks under his feet, and the brickwork of the walls crumbles away as he runs his fingers along them. There's the occasional sharp cracking noise, as another slate rattles from the roof and smashes on the paving stones of the courtyard, and the wind's whistling through the broken windows, setting the lighter doors squeaking on their hinges.
It's creepy enough as it is, even before he begins to hear the voices.
At first he's not sure what they're saying
59. CensoredWhen I was born you loved me59. Censored3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Told me I was rare
That I was special
Then a feeling came about you
Fear crept in
And I was considered scary
You pushed me away
Shoved me into darkness
Forgot I existed
But a light came on
I was honored once again
A new idea and new hope
Yet back I went again
I was considered dangerous
They knew I could change you
So I was killed
Forgotten and lost once more
You hated me
But what is this?
Your looking for me
Yes, you want me back
Yesterday I was hated
Today I am needed
What about tomorrow?
Are you going to leave me again?
Well are you?
Yes, I was right.
Yet again I am banned
I am censored
Why you may ask?
Because I am your thoughts
They love me,
But feared are they
For I have power
A power they can only dream of
I can help you or hurt you
But you decide.
Do Not DisturbYou know, there's nothing more tempting than a closed door.Do Not Disturb3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
So, you can imagine what I thought when I was a wee little girl and I first saw that armoire in my Grandmother's home. She lived in the French country-side, and every break in the winter-time, we would spend with her.
My Grand-mère loved to entertain us children with stories of her childhood, and old French fairy-tales that her Grandma had told her when she was our age. She especially told us about her cabinet. The one she called cachette.
Grand-mère told adventure stories, of love and life and death. The main character of her story was always a red headed girl with almond-shaped eyes that was painfully shy (at this point, my little sister would exclaim that it was me, for I did have red hair and I never spoke more than I needed too). My cousins and I would ask for our personal favorite stories about this little red-haired girl. My favorite was told like this:
The child's family had moved from England to Germa
3 -- LightThis light. It burns. I don't understand why because everyone always says that light is good. It doesn't feel good. It feels like pain. It shows me the truth of everything that I don't want to see. The scene of a murder is found in the daylight. The lonely child stands under the streetlight. The runaway teenager leaves by moonlight. Tearful wishes are made by starlight. So why does everyone say that light is so good? I think that it would be better if we were all bathed in darkness3 -- Light3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
She Cries ContentI am countingShe Cries Content7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
wishing wells, practicing
my thesis for every shooting star
in my mirror.
I have to admit, I
don't know what I want,
so I paper-punch holes in your
sky to replace the supernovas I
stole. I needed them
We are unsure,
perforated lovers at perpendicular
angles. All our reasons are
agree that we probably
shouldn't observe them.
I find it funny
that Euler's formula was considered
a jewel when it fails
to count our
cruel edges and
double-faces. I can't use
numbers to solve our mystery,
a still painting of
blindness. You see me
as on a distinct, separate path,
whereas I am...
bendy and neither here nor there, in the
I am omnipresent in my aspirations.
I am the essence of the
New York skyline,
and you are my ferry that leaves
and then snaps back like
a rubber band.
As long as you exist,
I can be content.
Let's not observe what's in that
A Winter PoemA Winter Poem1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
is a poor champion
for this summer-born body,
Yet ,I know his chill kiss
sires the green of spring.
January is the cruelest month.
I have been a fool.
He loves me not.
I love him still.
� L. L. Kelly 2012
Little Green MonsterThere was a little girlLittle Green Monster3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
With a very little heart
And a fragile little body
Always falling apart
In the very little heart
Deep inside this little child
There was a creature growing
A villain oft reviled
This creature features heavily
In many a sorrowful verse
It ruins the very best of men
Imagine what it does for the worse
And it grew inside this little girl
Creeping slowly through
And once she realized what it'd done
There was nothing she could do
Her little heart no longer pumped
With blood of a rosy red
Green film coagulated in her veins
And poisoned her young, pretty head
And the little green monster
Finally took blackened root
A venomous flowering tree
A seed of pains acute
Deep inside this little girl heart
Was planted the seed of envy
From there it soared to great heights
A weed turned deadly frenzy
The blessed priest could not save her
And the shrewdest gardener could not uproot
The thorny growth which consumed her
And from which bloomed withered fruit
From her jealousy there ca
IncubusI thought incubi were mythIncubus3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
And demons just absurd
I thought romance a dull notion
And love is just a word
But you froze me with a look
Silenced me with a kiss
And all the heartache I have known
Seems a sinful sort of bliss
Beware of the thieves who come at night
Beware of the arms that hold you tight
My incubus, my heroin
I close my eyes and you transform
I wish I'd known before we touched
It's Hell that keeps your arms so warm
But Hell is so inviting
With eyes as sweet as yours
And I love the fire within you
When it's shooting through my pores
Beware the dreams that you hold close
It's these dreams that hurt the most
It's not your hatred that I fear
It's your indifference that I mourn
The apathy you show for me
Makes me long so for your scorn
At least then you'd give me passion
And not merely a passing glance
At least I would have earned a thought
Instead of never having a chance
MemoryWe were children,Memory3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Playing as children do.
Sneaking letters across rumbling classrooms,
And gently teasing
As friends do.
We were children,
Playing tag as children do:
Brushing lightly and giggling softly,
And playing hearts
As innocent lovers do.
We were children,
Loving, though not in love.
Sharing shy kisses of affection
And loving each other
As friends do.
We are grown
And grown apart.
But I love you still.
And I always will.